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narrative poetry

what shall we do now
in your arms was still delight
tripping up, falling down
gaily through the fields we danced
thou unrelenting past
up and down he goes
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
master of human destinies am i
i saw the first pear
made up of loveliness alone
the air is like a butterfly
i never knew the earth had so much gold
a mist was driving down

 



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